Know Your Enemy
by ScareyBear
Summary: Sam and Dean go to Idaho to investigate some Enochian markings, and instead find themselves caught in a town overrun with demons. But the case goes farther south as the demons draw closer to discovering an unknown weapon, and the local hunter asking for their help proves to be an even bigger mystery than the town itself.
1. Chapter 1

Rain fell softly over the taught cloth of Sarah McGovern's black umbrella as she hurried from her car to the porch awning. It had been a long day at the office, as strange as things were around town—though, they'd been strange for years. Odd homicides were a monthly occurrence, so common and so similar that no one really looked into them anymore. Whoever was doing the killings was doing the town a service, hitting the targets just as they started to go off the deep end. But why so many people in the town were acting out of turn was—unknown. People liked to say there was a crazy ghost in town, that made others crazy as well, but that was from the safety of their own homes with cups of hot chocolate cradled in their laps.

She pushed open the front door and shut it quickly behind her to keep the rain out, before pulling off her wet coat and setting down her briefcase. "Honey? Honey, I'm home."

It was still something they tried to keep quiet. New bodies weren't big news anymore, but they might attract the attention of national TV if they weren't careful. Whenever reporters came by looking for stories, they directed them to little, trivial odd things that nobody cared about. The story that everyone actually agreed on was that somehow, their town was cursed, and nobody felt the need to curse anyone else.

She found her husband reading a newspaper at the coffee table, pages open to the sports section, and she gave him a kiss on the top of the head. "There you are. Did you want to eat out, or did you want me to cook something up?"

"Oh, don't worry about it," he said, closing the pages and getting to his feet, gesturing towards the kitchen. "I thawed out some pizza. I thought you'd be hungry."

"Starved." She followed him, watching as he pulled the pizza from the oven. "You never cook. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion, just thought you'd want some food. It's busy at the lab, then?"

"Busy as always. But not abnormal." She filled her mouth with cheese and pepperoni. "Mm."

"Hey honey, I've been meaning to ask you—have you ever heard of a girl named Pearce? Evyn Pearce?"

Swallowing, she gave him a quizzical look. "Yeah, she's a junior reporter. Comes in sometimes to take a look at the bodies. She's a nice girl. Why?"

"Does she have any friends?"

"Honey, why are you asking? I barely kn—"

"I said, does she have any friends?" His tone was less polite now, more vicious. Aggressive. "Contacts, other than her parents?"

"Honey, you're scaring me." Sarah was on her feet now, but she gasped and backed away when her husband's eyes blinked and opened again a solid, beetle-shell black. "Honey!"

"What do you know of Evyn Pearce?"

Sarah screamed as her monster of a husband stepped towards her, then again as a golden shape shattered the window and knocked him out cold. She was still screaming as she ran down the street through the rain, without a jacket, no longer concerned about keeping herself dry.

The hooded figure stepped through the broken window and picked the projectile up off the floor, eyeing the demon on the floor. "Better luck next time," they muttered, and they drew out a journal and flipped to one of the first pages, reading aloud. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus—« _

A few minutes later a smoky shape could be seen exiting the house, and the night's sounds lapsed back to nothing but the chirping crickets and the pattering rain.


	2. Chapter 2

"Check this one out—someone up in Idaho vandalized a potato field. I mean Jesus, that's about every single offensive word in the history of the human language, right there." Dean chuckled. "Burned it right into the ground."

Sam peered at him over the top of his own newspaper. "And?"

"Nothin', I just thought it was…" Dean caught sight of Sam's unamused look and shook open his paper again. "Okay, then." They were sitting at the table in the dingy motel that they'd taken residence in after their last vampire run-in at Salt Lake City. Things around the country had been relatively quiet. Dean scratched an eyebrow and held the paper higher so it could catch one of the rays or early morning light filtering in through the window screen. After looking through it for a few more seconds, his eyes narrowed.

"Learning some new words, Dean?"

Dean's head appeared above his paper. "There are other burn marks in the field," he said, flattening it out and holding it up for Sam's inspection. "Dude—is that Enochian?" Sam lowered his own article and looked at the picture Dean was brandishing in his face. He didn't read Enochian, but the symbols were unmistakable. Dean continued. "Think we should call Cas?"

"Wait, no." Sam took the paper, starting to recognize a couple of the symbols. "I don't think that the person who wrote this actually knew how to write Enochian."

"Excuse me?"

"They're just words. Disjointed swearwords. I think I saw Cas writing them once."

"Cas swearing in divine language?"

"Yeah. Can't remember why. This looks more like some kid who got ahold of an Enochian book."

Dean groaned and put his head down on the table. "More kids getting possession of magic books. Love it."

"If we can get up Idaho quickly and find and confiscate the book, it should be relatively simple."

"Well, nothing says simplicity like a fast case and a bag of fries." Dean threw the paper back on the table and picked up his jacket, but he was chuckling as he put it on. "Simple. Yeah, that'll be the day."

Five hours later they stood over the marks in the grass, which were much larger in person than they'd appeared in the photograph, but nothing seemed out of place other than the angelic scorches.

Sam shrugged. "I can't see anything weird. You?"

"Can't see nothin' but something doesn't smell right."

"What, like… sulphur?"

"No, I mean that even if some kid did get an angel book, burning Enochian curse words into a field seems completely—"

"Winchester?"

They both turned around to see a woman standing in the field behind them, warily looking over both them and the Impala. She gestured to the blackened potatoes. "Nice of you to get my message."

For once, Dean had no idea how to react, so he looked her over again, realizing that she was no more than a girl. She looked about nineteen, brown hair, blue eyes, dressed in boots, cargo pants, and a large jacket that spoke of practicality. Seeing their abundant suspicion, she pulled a flask out of her pants pocket and unscrewed the top, holding it up for Dean to get a glimpse of the cross engraved into it. She took a drink. She then rummaged in another pocket and took out a knife, drawing it across her forearm and leaving a trail of blood. "This knife is pure silver, so see? Clean. Before you start assuming that knowing your name makes me something sinister."

Sam spoke from behind Dean. "Okay. So, who exactly are you?"

"I'm the local hunter, but this is getting to be more than what I can handle. I need help. If you're willing to give it." She held out the flask and Dean took it, drinking from it before passing it to Sam. She tried to offer him the knife as well, but he took out his own, slicing his hand before nicking Sam's arm without permission, earning an "Ow!" but nothing unusual. She nodded passively as she took the flask back.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, Dean clearing his throat as the girl stowed the flask in one of her many pockets. "You got a name?"

"Evyn Pearce."

"You're a hunter."

"That's right."

"So what's the right way to take down a ghoul?"

"Head shot," she replied immediately. "It takes the form and memories of the last person it's eaten, but silver has no effect. Neither does salt or holy water."

Dean seemed satisfied, so Sam stepped forwards. "Do you have someplace more private we can talk?"


	3. Chapter 3

They slammed the doors to the Impala, unsure of where exactly Evyn was leading them. Now, she climbed out of the seat and closed the door quietly, pointing into a grove of trees by the road. "There."

It took Dean a couple of seconds to realize what she was pointing at, but once he'd sought it out, his irritation immediately turned to skepticism. "A treehouse? Really?" Sure, the thing was massive, built in an ancient, spreading oak. But the structure looked old.; not very demon-proof. He took a look around the rest of the neighborhood—the grove was towards the middle of the town, surrounded by other trees, but a lonely island of foliage among the other houses. "Who built this thing?"

"My dad." Evyn led the way through a small tangle of brambles to the ladder. "I designed it, though. And helped build. I soaked all the wood with salt water, so that when the water evaporated, it left the salt behind. Dad thought I was psycho, but I was a lot younger, so he said okay."

Sam looked at her curiously. "How old are you?"

Pausing halfway up the ladder, she replied, "Nineteen. Birthday's in just a few weeks."

"And you're a full-time hunter?"

"Yeah." She looked from one brother to the other. "You keep asking. Why?"

"Oh, y'know. Just wondering."

She shrugged and hauled herself up with blinding agility before pulling herself in. The minute she was, Dean ground his teeth. "What's with all of these kids trying to be hunters?"

"Well, with more and more demons ruining peoples' lives, the more kids will go seeking revenge," Sam offered.

"Exactly, Sammy, it doesn't mean they become hunters. It means that the kid goes off on a crazy vengeance-quest, doesn't end up learning how to be responsible and most likely kills innocent people before getting killed themselves. And then there are the ones who think that hunting is somehow superior to a normal life, and instead of going to live with their relations, like they should, they decide to strike out as orphans and become some kind of vigilante. You know what happens, Sam, you saw what happened with Chrissie and the others! They killed innocent people—"

"Vampires."

"—you know what I mean. It's not right, Sam. But they get so high and mighty that they think it is."

The window above them opened. "First of all," Evyn said, poking her head out, "I can hear you. Second of all—this is the last thing that I want to do. You think I want to be a hunter? Living in fear 24/7? Barely scraping along and getting no thanks? Would you just come up already? I torched that field to get you up here, and got you guys up here for a reason." She pulled her head back in, shutting the window and latching it, and Sam gave a helpless gesture before climbing the ladder, Dean following grudgingly.

The inside of the thing was a full-on hunter's nest. Protective symbols were painted onto the windows, as well as the floor and ceiling. The table in the middle was scattered with typical hunter's gear—maps, knives, guns, silver bullet casings, soda bottles, and monster books. Dean surveyed the rest of the cabin while Evyn closed the trapdoor, latching it and adding another lock. A realization began to come over him and he turned back to Evyn. "You _live_ here?" He gestured behind him, where there was a miniature fridge with a radio stacked on top of it, a couch, and a TV sitting on top of a half-open cabinet inside which clothes were visible.

She stood up. "Yeah. I have for the past four years."

Sam and Dean let that sink in, before Sam chose to be the one to ask, "Is that why you became a hunter? Because of your parents?"

Evyn took only a split second to look confused before laughing. "What? No, my parents are fine. They live on the other side of town. Local dentists. Now can I tell you what I need help with?"

"Unless everyone in this town is going to die _right now_," Dean said, "you need to tell us what's up with you first."

She looked from Sam to Dean, before flopping back onto the couch. "Fine. Take a seat. What do you want to know?"

The brothers took refuge on the benches that had been built into the walls. Dean spoke first. "If your parents are alive and not hunters, then how did you get mixed up in all of this?"

"Good question. I still don't know. But ever since I was six, I started seeing demons all over this town. I eventually learned how to get rid of them."

Sam pulled out a notepad. "What happened when you were six? How did you meet your first demon?"

She eyed it skeptically. "What, are you taking notes now?"

"Just…taking stuff down. We keep files, you know?"

She shrugged. "When I was six years old, my family went to a yard sale, where I got a boomerang I found in the back. That night, I was supposed to be in bed, but I climbed out the window to play with my new toy. I was tossing it around when I heard growling. Back then, I had no clue what it was, but now, I think it was a hellhound. All I knew then was that something big, doglike, and invisible was attacking me. I didn't know what else to do, so I stabbed it with my boomerang."

Dean looked highly disbelieving. "And?"

"It died."

"Are you kidding me? What kind of boomerang kills a hellhound?"

"That's my point, Dean. And the start of the story. I think that there's an old hunter's nest somewhere in town. It would explain how a demon-killing weapon made it into a yard sale, and also why there are so many damn demons here."

Dean looked like he was going to interrupt again, but Evyn held up her hand. "I started to notice more and more creatures. I was looking up some stuff about demons when I noticed my first black-eyed bastard. I didn't follow him, of course. I didn't know what to do yet. But I did more research, collected a bunch of ingredients, and started to build this thing." She gestured around. "My dad thought that I was going through a phase, and humored me, helping me make it impervious to dark magic of any kind. Iron, sigils. I was about…eight, I think, when we finally finished it.

"A year later, I was suspended for bringing a knife to school. It was my boomerang, actually, the only demon-killing knife that I have—some kids had gone missing, and I was pretty sure that one of the teachers was a demon—but all the teachers knew was that it was razor sharp, and I had to stay at home while my parents tried to lecture me on the danger of knives. First, I tried to tell them the truth, and they thought I was crazy, which was understandable. But then the teacher—the demon—broke into the house that night and tried to do me in. I caught the thing and exorcised it, and my parents saw the whole thing. But they still wouldn't believe me. They thought that I was pulling some kind of trick, or they were hallucinating. Things were rocky for the next six years. On the plus side—I met John."

Dean perked up. "Dad?"

"The one and only."

"I don't think he ever mentioned coming up here."

"Yeah, well, he met too many people to remember them all. He saw what I was doing and helped me along. At first he tried to get me to live a normal life again, like kids should—"

Dean gave Sam an _I told you so_ look.

"—but we were attacked by another demon just while we were talking, and he started to realize that there was something up with my town. Too many demons to be natural. He realized that I needed training more than an ethics course and gave me a starting kit and some contacts. I heard that he died a long time ago."

Dean looked at the floor, so Sam took it upon himself to nod.

"I'm sorry. He was a good man. I'm glad that I got to meet him. Over the years, I've been trying to hunt down all the demons that I can around here—provided that they've proven themselves to be a threat—but more keep coming. At fifteen, I was attacked again, in the house, and I also took those two down, but my parents were going berserk. And I knew that they were in more danger the longer I stayed with them. That's why I moved in here—to protect them. I got a job working for the newspaper, achieved 'financial independence', and became an emancipated minor. We're still on pretty good terms. They visit me on my birthday, and stuff. I just decided that this was better.

"Ever since I got my driver's license I've been traveling around a bit, trying to get more resources together. But I realized that I couldn't cleanse this entire town without outside help, so I decided to get in contact with you. Can I reiterate the important bits now?"

Dean leaned back. "Shoot."

"Okay, so at first I had no clue why there were so many demons in this town, or why more keep appearing every time I snuff one out. But like I said, I think that there's a hunter's nest somewhere in town—probably abandoned—that the demons are looking for, and that my boomerang came from."

"And why the demons came after you, since you're the one in possession of it," Sam threw out.

Evyn nodded. "Exactly. I've been canvassing the town, getting old maps and trying to figure out the entire layout, and I found a few odd things." She stood up and unfolded one of the maps on the table, pointing to a spot by the river's edge. "Right here, there are pipes leading to the basement of the chapel. However, I've been to the chapel's basement and there was no place for them to connect. There's no running water in that building. You have to go down the road just to use the bathroom. But when I was in the basement I saw someone else—he looked like a security guard, and asked me what I was doing there. I told him I was looking for my friend, Christopher Valdez, and he shuddered visibly."

Sam nodded. "Christo."

"Exactly. Of course, I then played innocent, 'Sir, are you all right,' but he attacked me and I had to kill him."

"So you think they haven't found it yet?" Dean asked.

"Exactly. My guess is that there's something inside of it that the demons want, and I either have to find it and run, or destroy it. It's the only way to get the demons out of this town. And I know that I have to get them out. Innocent people have died here. I'm just trying to stop it." She grimaced. "Of course, this is all only conjecture. I have no idea whether or not there actually is a hunter's base in this town, but it's the best theory I can think of. The basement of the chapel would be an ideal place for it, but I haven't been able to go back there to find the entrance. That's why I need your help."

"Why haven't you been able to go back?"

"Because it's surrounded by a shitload of demons, that's why. But first thing's first. Is it worth investigating?"

"What?"

Evyn folded up the map. "I'm going to look into this, it's the only lead I have. But I'm not going to ask you for help finding this place if you don't think it exists. "I'm just a reporter, and better at killing monsters than I am at figuring out mysteries. I was wondering if you could look into the case first before we try the chapel. That is, if you're willing to help at all."

Dean shrugged. "Why not? Where there's demons, we follow."

"But," cut in Sam, "I think doing a bit of our own investigating is a pretty good idea. How about you give us a couple days, and then we'll report in back to you?"

Evyn took her seat back on the couch. "Sure thing. You can stay as long as you like, so you have access to all my info. You can even sleep here, even though the only food I've got is a cabinet load of granola and Top Ramen. Water's in the fridge, and I'll throw down some pillows and blankets in case you decide to stay. And that little cabinet in the corner is a bathroom."

"Whoa, whoa, wait. Bathroom? Electricity? This is a treehouse."

"It's a treehouse that I've been sitting and shitting in for ten years, Winchester." She paused in the process of climbing another ladder that looked like it led to a loft above. "You notice the tree? There are a few of them, all this size, scattered across town. My dad owns this one. And the sucker was strong enough to handle a little bit of plumbing and wiring through the trunk. No hot water, but the toilet works. Use the water from the rain barrel to wash up." Without another word, she disappeared.

Unable to resist, Dean crossed to the corner and peered inside the creaky wooden door, before turning back to Sam, looking delighted. "Dude, there's a toilet. In a treehouse. A _motherfucking toilet_." He clapped his hands. "I dig this place. We should have thought of this."

Suddenly there was a thump from above them. They both spun to face the ceiling, guns drawn, but they only heard Evyn's muffled voice. "Jesus, dude, don't scare me like that. What are you doing here?"

They looked at each other as her voice was followed by the mumbles of someone else. Evyn laughed. "They're fine. There here to help with the demons. Come on down, I'll introduce you." They quickly put their guns away as Evyn dropped from the ceiling hatch, reaching up to help someone else down—someone small.

The kid looked to be about eight or nine, with blonde hair, blue eyes—the classic angelic appearance. He almost could have been related to Evyn, had it not been for his pudgy face contrasting her sharp features. His clothes didn't fit him right, either. His face was smudged, and he was avoiding eye contact.

Dean squatted down. "Hey, kid. What's your name?"

The kid only looked terrified and kept staring at the floor. Evyn cleared her throat. "Sam, Dean, this is Michael Bronson. Mikey, this is Sam and Dean Winchester. They're here to help us out. Don't worry, okay?" Mikey nodded. "You wanna stay here for the night, or head back?"

The kid held out his hand, inside which sat a small leather pouch. Evyn took it, looking it over. "This is great, Mike. Where'd you get it?" He ran to the table and put his finger on a spot on the riverbank, just downstream from the chapel. "Thanks a ton. But be careful—I know I can't stop you from helping me, but please, please wait next time for backup, okay?"

He nodded, smiling, and hugged Evyn around the waist, before scurrying over to the hatch and climbing down. Evyn followed halfway. "Anything happens at all, bud, call me." Mikey nodded again and closed the door behind him, Evyn reaching down to latch it shut.

"Who was that?"

She turned to Sam, who'd asked the question. "Before I decided to strike out on my own, they tried putting me in the orphanage. He was one of the other kids there, so I got to know him a bit." She walked quietly to the window, ruminating for a moment. "That kid has been through deeper shit than I've ever known. His dad lost his job and became an alcoholic when Mikey was four. Came home drunk one night, killed Mikey's baby sister, Anna. On accident, of course. Mother committed suicide a few weeks later, and then the dad was arrested for involuntary manslaughter and a couple of DUIs. Couldn't pay his way out. I heard he died in jail. The orphanage is okay, but Mikey's in school, taking care of the younger kids, and working part-time at the grocery store because he's the oldest of the orphans. He's ten. I don't even think that's legal." Evyn opened the window and looked after the boy's retreating figure. "I try to help him, I even offered him to come and live with me. But he won't. He wants to make it on his own." She closed the blinds and stepped away. "He's a good kid, and doesn't deserve anything he's been thrown."

Dean muttered, "No one ever does." Then, louder. "So he doesn't talk a lot?"

"Nah. Writes fluently, and talks a little bit around me or other people he's comfortable with—so really, just me—but he's completely terrified by strangers. Doctors say that it's just a part of his PTSD."

"PT—?"

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder." Evyn gave him a quizzical look. "You deal with monsters, but have never come across a person with PTSD?"

Sam also looked at him. "You didn't know that?"

"I did," Dean protested. "I was just making sure that she could define it for your benefit."

There was a moment of amused silence before Sam spoke again. "Hey, Evyn, can I see that boomerang you were talking about, by any chance?"

He noticed an immediate twitch in the girl's face as she moved her hand protectively over part of her jacket. "You can't keep it."

"Wasn't planning to."

"You can't take it outside of this treehouse."

"Okay."

"And if anything happens to it, I swear to God, I will kill you."

"Understood."

Evyn watched Sam, looking for a reason to distrust him, but found none. Evyn drew a slim, gold object out from the inside of her coat and laid it on the table. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

Dean waited until she'd climbed the ladder, which must have led to her sleeping area, to walk over to the table for inspection. One end of the boomerang was shaped like an eagle's head; the other forged into a wing. The middle was patterned with feathers and contained tiny lines of Enochian script. "Here, Sam." Dean handed it to his brother and watched as Sam tilted it to read the symbols. "That's Enochian. _Now_ I think we should call Cas."

"Why, you think it could be angel made?"

"Yes, I do. There's somethin' a lot fishier about this whole thing than an abandoned hunters' hideout. Start doing some research, look for any suspicious activity that happened thirteen years ago, when she said she first saw the demons. And take a look into her family, would you?"

Sam paused with the boomerang in his hand. "What are _you_ going to do?"

Dean rubbed the stubble growing on his chin before gesturing to the cluttered table. "Start sorting through this mess."


	4. Chapter 4

_"They have made contact with the girl? She was your charge, Maria. You were supposed to take care of her."_

_ "I've been trying. You wanted to be discreet, I am being discreet, but I need more time."_

_ "The Winchesters have robbed you of what little time you had left. We need to act now, before it's too late."_

_ "Just a bit longer. Just a little bit longer and I'm sure we'll have nothing to worry about. If you need to, then you can send others to make sure that we maintain order."_

_ "You've made your superiors angry, Maria. If this gets any farther—if he appears—it won't be me who comes calling next time."_

* * *

"Sam, wake up."

Sam felt Dean tapping his shoulder and jumped awake. His laptop was still open, on the table in front of him, but it looked like the battery had died. Early morning sunlight streamed through the window by the radio, illuminating the figures of Dean and Evyn as they sat on the couch, eating what looked like frozen burritos. As Sam realized that he'd fallen asleep sitting up, a packaged burrito fell into his lap.

"I told your brother that the food at the diner is actually food," Evyn said as she crumpled up her empty wrapper. "But he wants to hear what you found out immediately."

Unsure what to do with the mixed messages, Sam set aside the burrito and opened his laptop. "Oh, uh, sure. Hey Dean, did you call Cas?"

"Cas. Right. I'll get ahold of him."

Evyn gave them wary looks as she stood up to pitch her garbage. "Who's Cas?"

"One of our friends," Dean said as he pulled the treehouse hatch open. "We think he might be able to help figure things out. Back in a sec." Evyn barely had time to throw away her trash and turn back around before there came a, "Back," and Dean's head popped back into the treehouse, followed by the rest of his body as he wriggled onto the floorboards.

Evyn raised her eyebrows. "That was quick."

"So's Cas. He's here. Cas," Dean turned back to the hatch. "Get up here. It's just a treehouse, not that hard to figure out."

Sam heard a familiar low voice sounding from below them. "I can't, Dean."

"What?" Dean shot a perplexed look to the others. "Dude, you were on board like two seconds ago."

"Dean, I _literally_ cannot enter. It's warded."

"What?" Sam and Dean turned to see Evyn on her feet, boomerang in hand. "Winchester, what the hell are you trying to bring into my house?"

"Whoa, hold on!" Sam held out his hands. "He's an angel. But he's our friend, he's here to help."

Evyn didn't look convinced. "You trust him?"

"Yes, we've known him a while. Sorry we didn't warn you, we just… didn't realize you had the place so well guarded."

Evyn finally lowered her weapon. "Is Cas his full name?"

Dean cut in with a "Why should that—" before Cas spoke again from below.

"It's Castiel."

Setting her boomerang back onto the table, Evyn nodded her head. "Then I, Evyn Pearce, do grant permission of entry to the angel, Castiel."

Cas's head appeared through the hatch, followed by the rest of him. His trench coat swirled as he turned to kick the hatch shut, before he looked back to Evyn. "The wards you have on your tree-home… they're impressive."

Sam nudged him. "It's called a treehouse."

"Is there a difference?"

"Anyway," shot Dean, and picking up the boomerang, "We were wondering if you could take a look at this weapon that Evyn found." Catching Evyn's evil eye, he added, "But you can't take it out of this treehouse or hurt it in any way, got it?"

"Yes. Got it."

Cas took the weapon and sat down in Dean's vacated chair, staring at it for a couple of seconds before pulling a fresh sheet of paper from the mess on the table and beginning to write on it. Sam cleared his throat. "This is Evyn, by the way."

"I heard her the first time," Cas replied, not looking up.

Sam looked uncomfortably at Dean and the three of them stood around in a deafening silence until Evyn commented, "Charming friend you've got."

"Well, Cas is an angel," said Dean. "He doesn't have the best… people skills."

"Everything carries in this place, so I'm not going to bother to lower my voice. One of you has to be with him at all times. I trust you two because I trusted your dad—but that doesn't mean that I trust your friends. I've only ever let Mikey into my life before, and now I've got three of you running around here. My house, my rules, okay?"

Dean wasn't looking forward to the prospect of angel-sitting. "Look, both of us can vouch for Cas. He's given up a lot to go against the other angels, and—"

"Look at my face, Dean. I don't care. My house. My rules."

Dean shrugged. "You're just one suspicious, closed-off bitch, aren't you?" Sam flinched at his swearing, but Evyn just lifted the corner of her mouth in a prideless smirk.

"Why do you think I'm alive, Winchester?" Her gaze shifted to Sam. "So why don't you tell us what you found out?"

"Um—yeah. So I checked for any unusual activity that happened thirteen years ago, but there wasn't really anything outside of normal weirdness. You know—a drunk driving accident, a girl dying of bone cancer, a crop failure by the edge of town—but I can't find demons in any of this mess."

Dean leaned forwards. "Crop failure sounds closest to demonic sign. And if it was on a particular side of town, maybe it'll lend us a clue as to where the demons came from."

Evyn nodded. "I already checked that out, but I might have missed something."

Dean returned the nod before turning to Cas. "Find anything?"

"Well," he began, alarming everyone by raising the boomerang to his arm and slicing his skin on the blade. "It can kill both angels and demons, like the angel swords we use in heaven, but it's not like anything I've ever seen up there. The inscription reads: 'So that wherever you may roam, Heaven, Earth, or Hell, you may be protected'."

Dean took another look at it. "So it's custom made, designed to kill anything on or off God's great earth. Starting to sound more and more like a hunter weapon, but I'm still not buying that. Who the hell has that kind of smithing skill?"

"Beats me." Sam took the weapon from Dean and set it down on the table. "Evyn, you said you found it at a yard sale? Which house?"

"28 Greenvale road, owned by Mrs. Marsh at the time of acquisition. You can trust me when I say that she's not a hunter."

"All right. So we should probably go check out those crop failures. Dean and I will go to the other side of town—where will you two be?"

Evyn perched herself on the edge of the couch, opposite Cas. "Here, I guess. If you find anything, call." She picked up a map and pretended to study it, but Sam could tell that she was watching Cas's every move in her peripheral vision.

He and Dean climbed down from the tree and headed for the Impala. As Dean tried to get into the driver's seat, Sam paused him. "What are you thinking right now?"

"I don't know what to think, but I'm not buying the story that Evyn's feeding us. Let's just take a look at that farm."


	5. Chapter 5

Cristo-salt-pie93, thanks so much for your review!

* * *

"The plants seem to be doing all right now."

"Those are weeds, Dean."

The fields were green, but had literally gone to seed. Dandelions and ragweed coated what used to be well kept field rows. Dean closed the door on the Impala and the two of them began to walk up the dirt road to the ramshackle farmhouse resting in the shade of a large maple.

Dean sneezed as his shoes began to kick up dust. "So what's this guy's name again?"

"Joe Harper. When I checked records, all that I could find was that he lived by himself, wife and children and grandchildren are dead, nothing more specific. Didn't even have their names."

"Really?" Sam shrugged and Dean shrugged back. "I guess he can tell us, then."

They climbed onto the covered porch to find that the door was wide open while the screen remained shut. Seeing no doorbell, Sam rapped on the screen. After waiting for a few moments, in which Sam tried to gauge the house's age and Dean warily eyed a wasp buzzing in the rafters, they heard a scratchy voice call, "Come in!"

The rusty screen door creaked open and Sam and Dean entered the carpeted hallway. The house was one of those musty, stifling environments, padded by layers of history that gave it a still, silent feel. Sam sadly eyed the wall next to them, lined with picture frames. Most of them were very old photos, showing a couple and their son. Some of the more recent were of the boy as a grown man, with a wife and child. They were all in perfect lines.

Making their way into the living room, they were greeted by the sight of clutter—old newspapers, video cassettes, and books strewn across every flat surface, and punctuated by more picture frames. The television cabinet was open, paused on an old western, and from the chair across from it rose the faded, hunched figure of an old man. He was thin, but not skeletal, clad in a loose hand-knitted sweater. "What can I do for you boys?"

"We're very sorry to bother you, sir," said Sam, "but we're writing a book on the history of the town, and we were wondering if you could tell us about the disease that came across the fields back thirteen years ago."

The man's eyes glazed over for a moment, and Dean thought that he'd fallen asleep, before he nodded. "That was before I got here, but I could tell that the crops were dead. Lyin' yellow in the sun they were. I got'm tested out of curios'ty, and it was fusarium wilt, like I thoughts. Seen it an 'undred times afore. Did tend to come through every few years. The house was empty when it happened, farm own'd by people on the other side of town. I came in a little later, with the plants all up and died, but the dead stuff made great compost for the next batch. I let it go, though. Don't need no potatoes to look after. Don't have anyone to look after'm anyhow." He picked up a photo lying on the floor and set it on the mantelpiece.

Sam looked at Dean. They weren't plant experts, but there was no proof that the crop failure was caused by anything supernatural. Dean addressed the man again. "Mr. Harper, we need full records on the people of this town, but couldn't find the names of your descendants. Who were they?"

With a creak and a sigh, he eased himself back down into his chair and lay back, closing his eyes before answering. "Just my Polly and my Julie, then Julie's girl Bell. All gone now, Polly went to heart attack and Julie had an accident. At least, I think so." He rubbed his eyelids.

It didn't mean anything to Dean, but Sam started. "Julie, sir? Julie Mayers, killed in the 2001 car accident that also claimed the life of her husband? She was your daughter?"

Joe mucked around, searching for the right words for a few seconds, before brightening up and triumphantly drawing out a "Yes."

Sam turned to Dean, and whispered urgently, "The three things that happened that year, remember? Crop failure, car accident, cancer death. That makes two of them center around this family."

"Yeah, but the crop thing came before he moved."

"Sir?" Sam addressed Harper again. "Why did you decide to move here?"

"Bell," he said with a smile. "We thought she'd like it here. We decided to come out a few months before the plague hit, then waited until it had passed to make the move." His brow furrowed. "I can't recall what happened after." Then he lowered his voice. "They came through though, you know. Little thievish imps. Tried to make me forget Bell, took my pictures, but they couldn't get them all, no. Kept this one hid under a stack of books." He fished around in the mess beside his chair before pulling out a photograph of a very young girl in a hospital bed. Despite being bald, she was smiling. Her mother was beside her, holding her hand.

Harper looked at it, once again seeming concerned. "She never came to this house, though, did she?"

Sam looked over the picture, before holding it up. "Sir, can I take this? I need to photocopy it for our book. I'll make sure to mention your granddaughter." The man seemed like he wanted to protest, but couldn't remember why, and simply nodded. Sam gave a very forced smile. "Thank you for your time, sir."

As they left through the front door, Dean asked, "Why'd you take the old man's photo?"

"I wanted a picture of Julie."

They walked to the car, before Dean started to laugh. "Evyn might be a hunter, but she's not exactly the world's greatest detective, is she? I mean, three omens, all having to do with the Harpers? It's pretty obvious."

"I don't know. I feel like she's not telling us something. But now we just have to figure out why that family was targeted."

"I was looking around in Joe's house, and I couldn't see anything that might have made him or his family hunters. He's a little out of it, though. Did Julie have her own house?"

"No. She and her husband and daughter all lived with Joe. But they _had _to have been hunters. It would have been very easy for a demon to possess a driver, or a hospital worker, to kill off the members of the Mayer family. So why are they still here?"

"Targeting Joe?"

"If they were, he'd be gone by now. I think that Evyn might actually be right. If this was a hunting family, and had a base set up somewhere in the town, with some treasured artifact in it—provided that the demons wanted it badly enough—I can see a detachment being sent in to find the kill the owners and find the place."

"And so they're still looking. They've been sending people after Evyn because she owns one of the hunter weapons, and is the only threat still in town, and are trying to find the nest." Dean nodded. "You know, how about we go back to the treehouse and you tell Evyn what we found, and we can go talk to Mrs. Marsh tomorrow." As Dean slid into his seat and shut his door, Sam following, Dean made a point of locking the door. "And look out for demons."

In a few minutes Sam was climbing back up to the treehouse and knocking on the hatch while Dean mounted the ladder behind him.

"Use the knocker," came Evyn's muffled voice from within.

"What?"

"It's made of silver."

Sam sighed and knocked again, and Evyn pulled the door open to help Sam up, then Dean pushed himself through without assistance. Sam crouched down to close and lock the door, only to feel something dripping down his neck. He turned just in time to see Evyn screwing the top back onto her flask of holy water and Dean wiping off his hair. "Just making sure, Winchester. Better get used to that."

Sam shrugged and only then noticed the sound of the television playing. Looking around the room, he saw Cas seated on the couch, avidly watching the screen, as he usually did when being exposed to human culture. "What's Cas watching?"

"Um… Batman. We were watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but he got offended. So—did you guys find anything?"

Dean spoke up before Sam could. "Yeah. The guy who lived by the diseased potato farm was Joe Harper, father of Julie Mayer—who died in a car accident the same year—and grandfather of Bell Mayer—the girl who died of cancer, also in that year. We think that their family was being targeted by demons."

"I looked into all three of those occurrences," Evyn said dubiously. "I hadn't realized they were all one family, but I checked the tests off of the plants, and the girl's medical records until the minute she died. There was no tampering in her case, and the plants died from a natural disease."

"And the car accident?"

"Might have been demons," she admitted. "I couldn't get enough info from the police department, as a lowly reporter and such." She fell silent for a couple of seconds before muttering, "Shit. I've lived here all my life and never once considered talking to that guy. Or at least I thought I did, but it seemed like a bad idea."

The information caught Sam by surprise. "Why?"

"I—don't really remember. He just made me uneasy. Anyhow, I can see that it was a fatal mistake. Why do you think the family was being targeted? A hunter family, maybe?"

"That would make the most sense, but we can't find any evidence that the Mayers were hunters of any kind. We're going to do a little more digging tomorrow. We're not in any hurry, right?"

"Nope." Evyn went to the fridge and pulled out three bottles. "Beer?"

Dean leaned forwards and took one, incredulously. "You drink beer? You're not old enough."

"And you were, when you started?"

Dean shrugged, with a grin, saying "Got me there," before popping off the cap and taking a drink.

Evyn tossed a bottle to Sam, who caught it, before she looked at Cas. "Does he drink?"

Dean shook his head. "Don't ask. Why is he still here, anyway?"

"He says he wants to see the case through. Stick around, in case we need his help later." Evyn twisted open her own drink, before waving the bottle in a vague gesture towards Sam and Dean. "I don't get any news up here, and can't leave very often, so all I know about the apocalypse was that it happened. I've met a few hunters in my time, so tell me… how many people died?"

Dean quickly raised the bottle to his lips again, to avoid answering, so Sam took it upon himself to sigh and say, "A lot."

"Gordon?"

"Yes."

Evyn sighed in relief. "Good. He scared me. What about the family that ran the diner, Jo and Ash and Ellen? Are they aright?"

Dean's throat threatened to close for a moment, but he hid it behind a swig of beer before saying, "Gone."

Now Evyn had begun to look alarmed. "Bobby Singer?"

"Gone as well."

"Dammit." Evyn ran a hand over her hair. "Is there anyone left? Do you guys know Adam Milligan?"

"Adam?" Dean looked at Sam, who was busy staring. "You know Adam?"

"Yes, I know Adam, but he hadn't known you the last I checked." A small smile had returned to her face. "But it's great to hear that you finally met him. How is he?"

They stayed silent, but their faces said everything she needed to know. Her smile disappeared. "He's dead?"

"Not dead," said Sam quickly, "but he's… gone."

"Which in hunter lingo," growled Evyn, "means he's as good as dead. Please tell me you had nothing to do with it."

"Believe it or not, it wasn't entirely our fault," said Dean, but didn't elaborate. Evyn eyed him coldly.

"What happened?"

"Evyn, it was the apocalypse, a lot of things happened, and you shouldn't torture yourself over—"

"_Tell me what happened_."

"He, uh," interceded Sam. "He actually died once, a ghoul went after him and his mom 'cause of stuff that our dad did. Then he was pulled out of Heaven to become the vessel of the Archangel Michael when they couldn't get ahold of Dean. Long story short, Adam said yes, and both he and Michael were locked in Lucifer's Cage, alongside Lucifer himself."

"I thought angels needed permission to possess someone."

"They do. They told Adam that he'd be saving the world—killing the devil, and everything. They also told him not to trust us, so he wouldn't listen to our warnings. He ran off, and it turned out that all the angels wanted him for was bait, since Dean was the vessel they were really looking for. He was going to come with us when he figured that out, but the angels got him first. Either his first 'yes' was enough, or they told him things, did things to him to make him agree the second time. He was Michael when the final confrontation went down. We opened the portal to Lucifer's Cage and got Lucifer inside, but Michael tried to stop it. He thought he was destined to kill Lucifer. In the end, they both went down."

Her face hadn't changed one bit throughout the story, and now she only glanced up. "So," she said tonelessly. "Who was Lucifer using?"

Unsure of how to answer, Sam looked at Dean, who shook his head. Evyn caught the movement. "Oh, come on! Tell me the whole story, and if you lie, I swear to God I'm going to _shoot_ one of you."

Sam held up his hands. "Me. I was his vessel"

For a moment, Evyn seemed caught off-guard. "But you got out."

"Yeah. Dean made a deal with Death and got my soul out of the cage."

The girl looked disbelievingly from one brother to the other. "And Adam?"

Dean took it upon himself to answer. "He only allowed me to take one soul out, Evyn. I had to choose Sam."

Her flat, expressionless face turned dangerously cold. "Oh really? And why's that?"

"Because he's my brother?"

A derisive laugh. "And Adam wasn't?"

"I'm sorry, Evyn, but I barely even knew the kid!"

"And that makes everything all right, does it? A-okay. You only met him at nineteen years old, and that gives you the right to leave him to rot in Hell for eternity. Did you ever even get to _know_ him? He enjoyed baseball and fishing and reading. He planned on moving to Massachusetts to study marine wildlife and the changing climate. His favorite childhood show was TMNT. The thing he was most concerned about was getting good grades and impressing this girl at his school—Victoria. He was the only one of us with a shot at a normal life, and you had the nerve to leave him locked—in a barrel—with the devil."

"Look," said Dean, trying to calm her down. "Evyn. Ev. I'm sorry. We tried everything we could—"

"Don't call me that," she snapped. "And don't patronize me." She sighed, through a bitter mouth. "He was the only friend I had."

Dean could feel his heart sinking deeper into his chest. "Evyn, we're sorry."

"Shut up."

In a heartbeat, Evyn had crossed over to the hatch and dropped out of sight. The brothers and the angel were left to stand about in an awkward and surprised silence. Finally, Sam commented, "She took that a lot harder than I expected."

"Everything about this situation is harder than we expected," said Cas.

Dean grinned. "That's what she said."

Sam glared at Dean until the grin dropped off his face, while Cas looked confused. "No, I'm fairly sure that she never said that."

Sam spoke up again. "I wonder how they met each other?"

"We could ask," said Cas.

"No," shot Sam immediately. "We just brought her news of Adam's death, we shouldn't make it worse."

"We _should_ ask, Sam," appealed Dean. "She has more ties to our family than most people. We should know about them. I'm going to go down and ask." He swung open the hatch despite Sam's protests and climbed down the ladder to where Evyn was sitting in the grass.

"What do you want?" she asked shortly.

"To know how you met Adam. I'm sorry that we're dropping this weight on you right now, but he _was_ our brother, after all. We want to know what happened between you two."

Evyn glared at him and Dean thought she wouldn't answer, before she sighed. "When I was nine, I met your dad. He helped me clear the town of demons. Then he said he wanted to show me that it was possible to live like a normal kid. He took me south and introduced me to his son, Adam. I'd thought it was impossible, you know, the son of a hunter not even knowing that demons were real.

"Adam and I became friends. Mikey's a friend too, yeah, but he's more of a ward. Almost like a son. Adam was like a big brother. He was the first person that I had to look up to." Her pale blue eyes held a brooding look. "I just… didn't expect to hear that he'd died."

Dean recognized something about her cautious tone, and gave a humorless grin. "Sure that's all?"

Evyn chanced half a smile. "I did like him, I guess. Back then, he was like a brother, but when I saw him again six years later—damn, that boy was sexy." The smile quickly faded, and she sighed, rubbing her arms. "I think you would have liked him. He was a lot like you."


	6. Chapter 6

The next day was spent largely in waiting. Dean decided to check out the house where Evyn had gotten her magical boomerang, while the rest of them watched TV and played poker in the tree house. Cas had the best poker face, but was still a terrible player. Evyn periodically left to go to the store and scout around for any demon activity. It was getting dark out when she returned from one run empty handed. "All right, I haven't seen any demons in, like—ten hours. I'm going to go see if I can find them, they're making me nervous."

"Wait, you haven't seen any demons, meaning you know who's possessed? Why don't you just kill them?"

"Because a.) The fewer innocent people who die before this blows over the better, and b.) more just keep coming. But I'm not stupid. I keep tabs on the demons and none of them went to work or school today. I think that they've either found something or are getting close. So I'll take a walk."

Sam was silent for a couple of seconds, before saying, "Why don't you just let them go through with their plan?"

Evyn stared at him as though he'd just hailed Hitler. "What?"

"Why are you hunting these demons?"

"To get bastards out of town," she replied incredulously. "To save innocent lives, since I'm the only one in this town who knows how. You know that."

"I do. But think—if they get whatever they're looking for, they'll leave. End of story."

Evyn shook her head. "And if it's a weapon, they'll have it. No matter what it is, it'll make the demons happy, and that usually isn't a good sign. If they want it badly enough to stay in one place for twelve years to get it, then it's bad. Really bad. So I'm going to take a look around town to see if any demons are getting excited. Could you stay here with Cas?" Sam was protesting when she continued, "I said I'm not leaving him alone."

"Why can't we all go?"

Evyn winced. "We need to be quiet. And ever heard how two's company, three's a crowd?"

Though Cas had been sitting on the couch a moment before, Evyn jumped to find him right next to her. Seeming not to notice, Cas deadpanned, "We'll cover more ground with three. You'll be able to keep an eye on me, and we'll have a better chance if we do attract the attention of demons."

Sam could see Evyn's mouth tighten, but she inclined her head and snatched her boomerang off the table. "I hope you brought a demon killing knife."

As she turned back around, she saw that Cas was already gone. "He does that a lot," Sam said apologetically.

"Friggin' angels," muttered Evyn, kicking open the trapdoor and descending without another word. Sam followed, mind spinning. The situation was one of those cases that seemed to fit together well; almost too well. Things were falling together perfectly—and he never trusted anything that was perfect.

* * *

_Earlier_

Cas had turned off the TV once he'd noticed Evyn's soft snoring. He was standing near the trapdoor, and had watched Evyn go from slumped on the couch, to lying down, to asleep. After a few minutes she began to toss and turn, muttering incoherently. Cas only started to take notice when her mumbling began to sound more like Latin. He moved over to her, and was surprised when she turned over to reveal tears running from beneath her closed eyelids. Deciding that it would be for the best, he shook her awake.

She shot straight up, almost instantly on to her feet, before Cas grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back down. "Relax. You were having a nightmare."

It took several seconds for Evyn's eyes to reflect understanding of Cas's words, but once they did, she lifted a hand to her cheek to wipe away the tears. "Dammit. You saw that?"

"Yes." Cas offered her a tissue from the box on the table behind him, and she accepted it. "You were speaking Latin. What were you dreaming about?"

"That's the thing—I can't remember. I can never remember. I think they might be demons—but then, they might be angels. All I know is I've been having them since I started meeting monsters. I thought that it might happen to all hunters."

"Sam and Dean _do_ experience nightmares, to a certain extent. But they can usually remember them."

Evyn threw the tissue away. "Maybe I'm going crazy and just don't realize it."

"Do you ever hear voices in your head?" It sounded like a follow up to her statement, but Cas wanted to test out a theory.

"No."

Cas was slightly disappointed, but managed to hide it. "Then it isn't schizophrenia."

"Thank you, Dr. Oz."

"What?"

"Never mind." Evyn shook her head, seeming to remember who she was talking to. She turned the television back on, before pulling a bottle of Mountain Dew out of the fridge and taking a swig. She then proceeded to seat herself in the hard wooden chair by the table, and pull a book from somewhere in the mess. Since it was vacated, Cas took a place on the couch, but he continued to watch Evyn as she forced herself to stay awake.


	7. Chapter 7

_Present_

"This is giving me mega jeeb-heebs," said Evyn. "The chapel looks deserted. I'll scope it out, then spiral out from there. Cas, could you take the other side of the river, and Sam, go up and down this side of the river bank? If you run in to trouble, give a shout. If you find anything—shut up. Listen and learn. Sound good?"

Sam wasn't used to taking orders from other people, especially younger girls, but he saw the sense in her plan and nodded. They had crossed through the sleeping town without seeing any signs of demons, or, in fact, other people. Not even a light on or a rustle of curtain.

Sam shivered as he began to explore his side of the grassy, moonlit riverbank. The river beside him was wide and flat, perfectly mirroring the half-clouded moon. The only evidence of its movement was the slow drifting of leaves and twigs as they rode the current. Sam was following the river north when a southern breeze sprang up, carrying a pungent, familiar scent to his nose. Like rotten eggs. Sulphur. He quickly backtracked and started to creep his way south down the river.

He had walked for about a mile before he heard voices piercing the still night air. An array of human voices, uttering very supernatural speech.

"…to get in."

"I think the best way would be to pay off one of the humans."

"And trust that they'll know which artifact is the dirk?"

"And do you think that they'll actually do it? Even a human wouldn't be stupid enough to walk into an iron bunker with sigils carved into the walls to find a dagger and deliver it to a waiting group of locals. It doesn't make any sense."

"Then we bribe a kid. One of the high schoolers would easily be stupid enough to do it, provided that we pay him."

Sam caught sight of the flash of lights and pressed himself flat under a bush for a closer look.

"And then kill him, right?"

"Of course."

A group of four people, a redneck, a soccer mom, an old man, and a teenage girl, were all standing in a semicircle, surveying a trapdoor wedged between a group of rocks. Sam couldn't see it very well, but none of the demons were making a move to open it.

"Fucking iron," the girl finally commented.

"Watch your language," the woman snapped.

"Sorry," the girl said innocently. "I guess my host is coming through a bit." She lowered her voice. "Bitch."

The woman was about to start again when the redneck cut in. "Would you quit your yappin' already? Y'all came here for the same reason, and once we have the dirk—which we'll deliver at the same time—we can all go back to our little corners of Hell and Earth. Just deal with each other 'til then."

The two women stood there, looking coldly at each other, until the older man also spoke up. "We should put the rest of our people on guard duty until tomorrow. When school lets out, Gloria here can make a deal with one of the students." The teenager broke the standoff to give a dazzling cheerleader smile. "Until then, watch out for that damn girl."

They all hissed, and broke up, heading back towards the main road. Sam waited until they were out of sight to step forwards to examine the trapdoor. It was surrounded by chunky dirt, and the ground in front of it was littered with rocks and more debris. It looked as though they had been digging for quite some time to finally unearth their route. Sam tried to pull the door open, but it was rusted shut. He was going to need Dean's help to get it anywhere.

He turned around to confront an angry soccer mom. "Hey, handsome. Just what do you think you're doing?"

In a moment, she'd grabbed Sam by the neck and slammed him against the door. As his head cracked on the metal, his concentration slipped. His vision was swimming, head pounding, and though he tried to pry her hands away, she had a grip like the very iron that she found so deadly.

Then her grip slackened and let him drop to the ground. Gasping for air, he looked up to see her eyes sparking, the tip of a golden blade poking through her chest. The demon slid to the ground, and Evyn wiped her boomerang on her shirt. "Come on. I've got Cas. We've got to get back to the treehouse before her guard gets here."

"Her guard?"

"Yes. Sam, please hurry."

A few minutes later the three of them were sprinting down the dimly lit street. Sam was breathing hard, while Evyn was only slightly panting and Cas looked like he was going for an easy morning jog. "This is why you don't ward your house against angel teleportation," heaved Sam.

"Better safe than sorry," Evyn shrugged.

That's when four figures emerged from an alley in front of them, blocking the way. Skittering to a stop and turning to look back, Sam, Evyn, and Cas saw five similar figures behind them. All holding knives. All with black eyes.

"Attack plan?" asked Sam.

"Kill the bastards," replied Evyn.

Sam had one moment in which he saw Evyn go into combat, but in that moment, he saw enough. She faced the four oncoming demons and hurled her boomerang like a tomahawk, catching one of them square in the chest. She dove forward, rolling under another's knife swing to wrench her blade out of the first demon's body, and in one fluid motion, had slit her next two attackers' throats.

Then, of course, Sam had to defend himself against the demon that was trying to kill him. He ducked the first blow, but took the follow up fist in his right cheek, staggering to the side. He lunged out blindly, hearing a screech as he drove his knife into the demon's arm. He pulled it out and aimed his next shot precisely, landing the blade in the sucker's neck. Sam then looked up to see that the battle was over. Evyn's four attackers were all dead. Cas had taken out the other four from the back.

Sam was still uneasy when he climbed back into the treehouse, but his worries were driven from his mind for a second as he was assaulted by Dean. "Dude! Where have you been? I found your phone _here_ and I've been waiting for hours!"

Evyn chose to answer as she shut the trapdoor. "We were looking for demons. It'd been a while, and I wanted to know if they'd found something. It turns out… they did. Sam, what was that?"

"Trapdoor. I'm pretty sure that it leads to your abandoned hunter's nest, because they were talking about a weapon inside—a dirk—that they needed. But they couldn't get to it, because the door was made of iron. They're going to go after it tomorrow, bribing one of the high school kids into getting it for them."

"Then we stop them," said Dean. He then noticed the bruise starting to swell up on Sam's cheek. "Where'd you get that?"

Sam touched the mark self-consciously. "We ran into a little… trouble on the way back. Did you find anything with Mrs. Marsh?"

Dean smiled humorlessly. "She couldn't remember where the boomerang came from, but she remembered who owned the house before her. None other than Devin Mayer, the husband of Julie and father of Bell. Son-in-law to Joe Harper. Sam, these people had to have been hunters."

Evyn held up a hand. "Does this information help us, though? Now we know that the dagger is their target. They probably killed all the Mayers to clear the way. Sam's discovery is the most important right now; tomorrow, we're going to rise early, and get to that dagger before they do. If I can get it out of the city, the demons might leave as well. Sam, Dean—this is why I asked for your help. There's going to be a ton of demons guarding the opening. I need your help going in. If you don't want to, I understand."

"You kidding me?" Dean laughed. "Let's roll."

Evyn smiled. "Want to move now?"

"No," Sam said quickly. "We can move when it's lighter, so that we'll be able to see. How about you get some sleep first? You've looked tired ever since we got here."

"Trouble sleeping. I get nightmares."

Dean chuckled again. "Hunting'll do that for you."

"But I guess it would probably be best to wait for daylight. I'll see you boys in the morning." Evyn climbed the ladder to her overhead bunk.

Sam immediately turned to his brother. "Dean," he said in a low voice. "Something isn't right here."

"With this whole hunter's nest thing? It seems pretty solid to me."

"Not that—something's not right with Evyn. She's lived here for nineteen years and has never once gone to Joe Harper, why? Why does she seem subconsciously terrified of Cas? And how the hell can she fight so well?"

"Fight?" Dean surveyed his brother incredulously. "Sammy, she's been killing these things for ten years. You'd think she'd've learned something by now."

"No—Dean you didn't see it. She moved way too fast, way too gracefully. Too well for just some normal girl who taught herself the basics. She looked like she was born a hunter. Bred a hunter. From a hunting family, like us."

"So you think she was adopted? Maybe originally a Mayer? There's only one of them left, and he's a senile old man living in a rundown shack."

Sam paced. "Then we're still missing something. Something important."

Cas had silently taken up his former position on the couch, but chose to chime in. "Sam's right. She killed four demons in a matter of seconds. She also has frequent nightmares, but can't remember what's in them. She was having one earlier, and was both mumbling in Latin, and… crying. At first I thought she might be an angel, fallen from Grace, but she couldn't hear any of my messages. I think that she may have been put up for adoption because, as a hunter's child, she was exposed to a monster and put under a type of spell or curse."

"It makes sense," Sam added. "Her rocky relationship with her parents. They aren't _her_ parents. Her own parents were so different that Evyn is subconsciously rejecting the replacements. Also, it'd be why there have been several occasions in which demons have tried to jump Evyn. She's not just a hunter—she's hunter spawn. Demons would hate her even more for revenge purposes."

Dean grudgingly bobbed his head. "Well, you've got me convinced. But do you think that it really matters? It seems like all the demons _really _ want right now is this dagger thing, and if they get it, they'll up and go home."

"We'll just have to see." Sam pulled off his jacket, intending to do a battle inventory. He laid out on the table all of the weapons that he owned, and the guns that he kept on his person. He then patted his back pockets and remembered that he was still carrying Joe Harper's photograph. He was putting it down with the rest of his things before Cas stopped him.

"What is that?"

"A photo of Julie and Bell. The only one we could find. We got it at Joe Harper's house."

"That isn't Bell." Sam and Dean both turned to stare at Cas, but Cas didn't lift his eyes from the picture clutched in his hands. Finally, he turned it around so that Sam and Dean could get another look at it. The girl in the photo had a familiar smile, reflecting brightly out of her large blue eyes. Sam suddenly realized what she might look like with hair, and shot a look at Dean to see that he'd come to the same conclusion, but Cas was the one to voice the unanimous thought.

"It's Evyn."


End file.
